


Feast On This

by GoldBlooded



Series: Stucky Flavor of the Month [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bedsharing, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Breathplay, Bucky dresses like Tan France, Emotional Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Healthy Coping, Idiots in Love, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nomad Steve Rogers, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Bottom Bucky, Rough Sex, Schmoop, Self-indulgent fluff, Seriously there's so much tattoo kink, Soft Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Stucky - Freeform, Tattoo Artist Bucky Barnes, Tattoo Kink, Tattooed Bucky Barnes, Tattooed Steve Rogers, Thanksgiving, Thirsting, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, War Veteran Steve Rogers, Winnie and Sarah are the OG shippers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, sarah rogers is alive, soft steve rogers, steve has a quality tattoo kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldBlooded/pseuds/GoldBlooded
Summary: Steve, Sarah, and Bucky are headed down to Florida to visit the Barnes family for Thanksgiving. Bucky's tired of the interrogation about his love life from his Ma, and Sarah suggests the simplest solution would be for he and Steve to fake it for a few days.How hard can it be, right? After all, they've shared a bed before. After all, it's only pretend....Right?





	Feast On This

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, American friends! Have I been slacking on writing? Yes. Have I been procrastinating by watching _Queer Eye?_ Sure have!
> 
> -Thanks to Laney, who came up with the whole idea for this shindig  
> -Thanks to [LeisurelyPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeisurelyPanda) for rooting for me!  
> -Thanks to [chicklette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicklette/pseuds/chicklette) for rooting for me but also telling me to get over myself  
> -Thanks to my new friend [frostbitebakery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitebakery/pseuds/frostbitebakery) for geeking out with me and cheering me on!

_“So, honey, you seeing anyone special?”_ Winnie asked over the line.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “You know what, Ma? At this point I don’t think I’d tell you even if I was.”

 _“Such a spiteful child!”_ She chuckled. _“Well okay, I’ll leave it alone. You’ve done so well for yourself, sweetness, I just want you to be able to share it with someone.”_

And, well, she wasn’t wrong. Bucky’s Dirty Thirty milestone birthday in March had seen him educated, apprenticed, a (co-)business owner, and a sought-after commodity. He was at the top of his field, and he was proud of that. Not everyone could say they were one of the best tattoo artists in New York (and therefore, the country.)

“I know, and I appreciate that. Anyway, did you get the email I sent you about our flight?”

Winnie let out a happy squeal. _“I did, and I can’t wait to see you! I miss you all so much!”_

“Nobody forced you to move to Florida, ya know.”

_“I know, I know. But it’s been a dream of your father’s since the eighties, and I never actually thought he’d want to go, when it came down to it; but I’d been humoring him all those years, and it really came back to bite me.”_

“That’s what you get for not telling him that Florida’s the ballsack of the nation.”

_“James Buchanan! You better behave, or I’ll start whining about grandchildren.”_

Bucky groaned. “Jeez, Ma, you really are a piece of work.”

Winnie cackled delightedly.

\---

Sunday Lunch at the Rogers’ had been a tradition since Steve could remember. Before George and Winnie retired to the Florida Keys, both families would pack around the Barnes family table for a nice big meal on the sabbath. And then the next day, since childhood, Bucky would wait for the Rogerses to get out of mass to come over for Sunday lunch with Steve, Sarah, and Sarah’s hearty Irish cooking.

As it was, Steve found himself at his Ma’s well-loved wooden table, mouth watering at the smell of her roast chicken cooling on the counter, listening to Bucky lament. It was hard to keep track of what he was saying, because part of Steve’s brain was taken up with hunger and food smells; the other part was distracted with how the sunlight caught Bucky’s hair and gave his messy bun a coppery shine, and lit up his normally gray-blue eyes to light turquoise.

“She means well, I know she does, but it can be a little overbearing at times. Like, I’m happy and successful and I think I’m a pretty good person, why can’t that be enough? Why do I have to have a partner? Who even says I _want_ a partner? I could be ace for all she knows!”

Steve was belatedly processing all of Bucky’s words, though the last sentence pulled him out of his admiration for the way the ink of Bucky’s tattoos turned sepia-toned in the afternoon light. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but an indelicate snort from over his shoulder interrupted him.

“Bucky, my love” Sarah said in her light brogue, “Being asexual or aromantic are perfectly valid ways of living. That being said, if you’re either of those things, I’m the queen of Sheba.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “Honestly, Buck. You love people and sex too much. You love _love_ too much to be ace, just accept it.”

“You don’t know me!” Bucky tried to protest, but grumbled when he saw the matching raised eyebrows and judgemental blue gazes trained on him. “Okay fine! You know me better than anyone. But still, my problem remains. The whole five days we’re down there, she’s going to not-so-subtly try to get an answer, or set me up with a neighbor’s grand-niece or something.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they loaded their plates and dug in, with Steve and Bucky regailing Sarah with compliments. After a few bites, Bucky laughed and said, “I could always just look online and hire someone to pretend to be my date.”

Sarah frowned as she cut into her potato. “Seems an awful lot of work to me, to find some stranger like that. Why go through all the trouble when you’ve got someone who knows you inside and out, and could actually make it believable?”

Steve wracked his brain, trying to think of who she could be meaning. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out. Apparently, Bucky was having the same problem, since his face was scrunched in confusion.

“Ma Sarah, that’s a nice idea, but I don’t know anyone like that.”

Sarah turned her eyes skyward and muttered quietly, “Lord, give me the strength.” Then louder, “James Buchanan, he is sitting _right next to you._ ” Both men immediately stopped and looked up at her like deer in headlights, the sight of which she must have found pretty comical, since she started giggling. “Honestly, you’ve been best friends and partners in crime for quarter of a century now, and I know for a _fact_ you’ve gotten up to worse shenanigans than this.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, found he couldn’t, and stuffed in some roast chicken instead. Bucky, on the other hand, was goldfishing.

“I- what - how? That’s - Ma Sarah, there’s no way-”

“No way to pull it off?” Sarah challenged him, eyes ablaze with mischief. “I’d go so far as to say it’s your _only_ way to pull it off. You already know each other inside and out, already closer than most friendships anyway, since you’ve been at it so long. And it’s not like you don’t both like men, so it’s completely plausible. Toss in some sappy looks, play up a few affectionate touches, and they’ll be none the wiser.”

Steve’s brain couldn’t even process what was happening. Eyes wide, still staring at his Ma, he shoved more potato into his mouth. He could feel when Bucky’s gazed turned to him, assessing.

“You’re seeing that blonde, though, the flirty one. What’s her name, Laura?”

“Lorraine,” Steve corrected, still not looking at Bucky. “And that’s been over for a couple weeks.”

“Aw, bud. What happened?”

“I asked if she wanted to go to the climate change protest and she said that thinking about climate change was boring, and we should go shopping instead.”

“Ew,” Bucky said, and Steve knew the exact way Bucky’s nose was scrunched up without even looking.

Sarah made a sound like _see?_ before saying, “So, both unattached, both in need of a buffer for romantic questions. Sounds to me like you’ve got a perfect solution. Or are your sensibilities too delicate to fake it for a few days?”

Steve knew a lot about his Ma. He knew that she was deceptive to the last: a tiny, birdlike woman with soft blonde hair and sweet blue eyes, that held the spirit of a lion. When the world would have crushed anyone else under the weight of her circumstances, Sarah - an immigrant, widowed and with a toddler - had clawed her way up through nursing school, impressed doctors with her skill, wit, and bedside manner, and made a good life for herself and her son.

Steve knew that she was the strongest person he’d ever known, and that included his entire experience in the army. Steve knew that the old-timey propaganda soldier Bucky tattooed on her in a near half-sleeve was both Steve and his father, and even though she asked him not to join, she wore his decision proudly. Steve knew that the matching propaganda nurse on his arm was a reminder that he got to come home to her, and that he would always do whatever it took (be it walking out of a firefight alive or running to the corner bodega) to make her happy.

Steve knew she was manipulating the shit out of him.

He also knew he couldn’t resist.

“I’ll show _you_ delicate sensibilities,” Steve grumbled, then dropped his fork, reached over, grabbed Bucky’s face, and planted a kiss right on him.

If Steve had been thinking clearly, he probably would have wanted his first kiss with Bucky to be in private, and maybe not out of spite. He would have wanted to at least enjoy it, however fake it might be. As it was, he was too focused on defiance to do anything except literally mash their mouths together for a second, and only the loosest definitions could technically call it a kiss.

He pulled back and Bucky goldfished again, so Steve picked his fork up again and glanced at his Ma, who looked at him dubiously.

“I take it back,” she said. “That was _awful._ Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.” Then, she glanced at the wall clock and gathered her plate up. “Ooh, look at that! My program’s on already, it’s the last of that mini-series on colonialism in India I was telling you about. You don’t mind tidying up, do you boys?”

And without waiting for an answer, she disappeared into the living room.

Steve and Bucky finished their plates in pensive silence, then cleared the table and began washing up. They worked quietly for a while, until the silence became oppressive and Steve couldn’t take it anymore.

“I don’t…I don’t kiss like that,” Steve said. “For the record.”

Bucky looked at him in the same dubious way Sarah had. “Pal, I sure hope not. Cuz if you do, I think faking it’s off the table.”

Steve growled in frustration and turned so Bucky was pinned against the sink. “That’s _not_ how I kiss,” he said, and then reached up to cup Bucky’s face. He nuzzled Bucky’s cheek for a second and bumped their noses together, giving Bucky plenty of time to get away if he wanted. Then Steve leaned in, oh-so-slowly and on the verge of teasing, their lips barely brushing, until Bucky tilted his jaw up and sealed their mouths together.

Warmth spread through Steve but he hardly noticed, because he was focusing on demonstrating his top-notch technique. He refused to be seen as a bad kisser, even if just by his Ma and Bucky. Their lips slid against each other in the most easy, natural way. He felt like he’d been kissing Bucky his whole life, and deepened it just a bit before pulling back to lightly nip on Bucky’s lower lip.

“ _That’s_ how I kiss,” Steve said lowly.

Bucky blinked in surprise and nodded his head, eventually saying, “Yeah, alright. Maybe we can make this work after all.”

\---

When Bucky, Steve, and Sarah traveled together, it was a thing of beauty.

Sarah, small thing that she was, was much less likely to get cut in front of or pushed to the side while waiting in line to check in or board flights with two beefy men six feet and over with her. And people tended to make way for the trio when they saw how attentive her boys were to her, giving them compliments like ‘if only _my_ sons were so thoughtful.’

Steve, for all his tactical brilliance and situational awareness, could be oblivious to the people factor. He could plot the fastest way to any gate, get them through the shortest lines, find the best bathrooms, even swing past the better airport coffee shops.

But the red carpet treatment they often received?

That was all Bucky.

He was a natural born flirt and charmer, and very few people were immune, from the baggage checkers to the attendants at the gate desks. And at the holidays, his powers only grew.

The thing about humanity, is that it sucks sometimes, and traveling around the holidays is the worst. People take out their frustrations on the workers, and Bucky felt it his responsibility to make it better for them, if only a little.

He couldn’t help it if a little common decency - or even _friendliness_ and _patience_ \- got them free upgrades, or travel vouchers, or discount cards (or all of the above.)

As it was, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving saw the trio at LaGuardia: Ma Sarah was waiting in one of the seats by their gate, Steve had gone to get them coffees, and Bucky was handing a businessman’s ass to him.

“Look man, I don’t care how urgent you think your problem is, you don’t talk to working people like that! Now why don’t you apologize and take a breather, huh?”

Bucky knew full well how he looked: in his long-sleeved sweater with his hair pulled up, he looked soft and gentle. When his hair was down and his sleeves pushed up to show the vibrant tattoos on his arms, well...it was a different picture entirely.

Bucky had made sure to quickly change to the latter before addressing the irate businessman yelling at the girl behind the desk. He wanted to show that he did not give a _fuck_ about societal expectations, so the man in the suit better be ready to rumble over this because Bucky sure as hell was.

Most times - including this one - it wasn’t necessary. The businessman turned a deep shade of red violet, muttered something to the girl, and retreated away. Bucky subtly pulled his sleeves down and approached the desk.

“I am so sorry, ah... _Natalie_ , that that happened to you. Must be rough working here around the holidays, huh?”

Natalie, who was in tears, just squeaked a little and nodded.

“Listen, I bought some chocolates as a snack for my Ma a little bit ago, but I forgot she’s supposed to watch her sugars.” Bucky motioned to Sarah, who was quite absorbed in her historical Highland romance novel. “Seems like you might need a pick-me-up, would you mind giving them a good home?”

Natalies eye went wide, and Bucky pulled the tiny box of chocolates that he’d slipped into his back pocket as he came to deal with the businessman. She gave Bucky a watery smile.

“That’s very kind of you, sir. Is there...is there something I can help you with?”

Bucky gave her a million-watt smile. “No, that’s okay, you do so much for us travelers anyway. Hopefully your day gets a little better after this. Now I gotta go check on Ma, traveling can be hard on her arthritis.”

And Bucky wasn’t lying; Sarah had taken her medication before they’d left her apartment, but that was hours ago and he knew it was getting time for her next dose.

“Oh, well, if you want…” Natalie started. Bucky turned back and raised his eyebrows. Natalie checked something on the computer and said, “This is a full flight, except in First Class. And, well, we’ve got a couple standbys that are going to get placed there, but let me…” she typed a bit, and asked for their names. “Okay, I’ve upgraded you to First, and the standbys will take your seats. Hopefully that’s more comfortable for your Ma.”

Bucky grinned at her. “Natalie, that is so kind of you! You didn’t have to do that, but I really appreciate it. Hey, you enjoy those,” he tapped lightly on the box of chocolates still sitting on the desk, “And have a Happy Thanksgiving.”

Natalie beamed at him. “You too, sir.”

Bucky took their new boarding passes back to Sarah, and nudged her. She set her book aside and took his hand. “Bucky, my darling, I’m so proud of you. Always stepping in to make things right, since you were a wee little thing.”

Bucky’s chest swelled, and he sat quietly and held her hand while she continued to read her novel. A few minutes later, Steve walked up with a travel carrier of drinks.

“Sorry it took so long, they were brewing a fresh batch.”

“That’s awful convenient,” Bucky said slyly.

“I can’t help what time they brew coffee, Buck,” Steve said with exasperation. “Take your gingerbread monstrosity and sh-”

“Steven Grant, you better not finish that sentence the way I think you want to.”

Steve flushed and sat down. “Yes, Ma. Here’s your tea, light and sweet.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

“And what did _you_ get, O Judger of Drinks?” Bucky mocked.

“Black coffee, sweet.”

“You forgot ‘fresh-brewed.’”

“Shut up, Bucky.”

“I’m just sayin’, it’s convenient.”

“Very convenient, indeed,” agreed Sarah.

Steve gave an indignant huff, and Bucky rolled his eyes. Yeah, a guy like Steve Rogers walks up to a coffee bar where the employees are overworked, underpaid, and mistreated by their customers. He gives them those baby blues and his All-American smile and genuine kindness, and he has  _no idea_ why he got freshly brewed coffee.

When Natalie announced that it was time for their flight to board, Steve and Sarah pulled out their boarding passes and Bucky immediately handed them the new ones.

“Look alive, Rogerses. That’s us,” he said, as Natalie announced First Class passengers should start lining up.

_“Again?”_

“Look, pal, I can help getting upgraded just as much as you can help getting fresh coffee.”

“I _told_ you, I don’t control what time they brew the batches!”

Bucky ignored him, looked over at Natalie and gave her a wink, and offered Ma Sarah his arm.

\---

On the plane, Sarah sat in her own little row in First class, happily watching the view from the window. Bucky mirrored her across the aisle, while Steve wanted the legroom, and to not look out the window at all.

He didn’t mind air travel, except during takeoff- especially if he could see the sky outside. It reminded him too much of parajump missions, of what he had to do in SpecOps, and Steve had to fight to keep himself from slipping. Bucky, for all that he was a pain in the ass, was a _sainted_ pain in the ass, because he knew how to keep him present. As the plane lifted off the runway, Steve gripped the arms of his seat so hard he thought the fine leather might rip, but Bucky drew his wrist from the armrest and threaded their fingers together.

“It’s Tuesday, November twentieth,” Bucky said in Steve’s ear, pulling him back from the wilds of northern Africa. “You’re here, with me, _home._ We’re headed down to Florida to spend the holiday with my folks. Becca’s coming down from Johns Hopkins, and it’s going to be a really nice time. Somehow your Ma convinced us to fake being a couple so my Ma doesn’t interrogate both of us over our love lives.”

Listening to Bucky helped ground him. As the plane soared higher and higher, the steep angle started to even out, and so did Steve’s breathing.

“...we’re alive, and safe, and _real._ ” Bucky finished, and Steve noticed that Bucky was stroking his knuckles. That simple gentleness was never something he would have encountered in the field, and it helped to further ground him.

Steve took a few slow, deep breaths. “Florida for Thanksgiving.”

“That’s right, Stevie,” Bucky beamed at him.

“Fake dating, like some sort of rom-com.”

“Yup.”

Steve settled back into his seat, feeling mostly better. “How are we gonna pull this off?”

Bucky considered for a moment. “Well, Ma Sarah’s right. We do what we always do, but with more affection. I think this-” he motioned to their hands, still entwined, “-Is a good start.”

“We should probably practice, though.”

“Practice what?”

“I dunno, like, general affection?”

“Okay…”

“Like this.”

Steve turned to Bucky and stroked his jawbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. And if it felt like the most natural thing in the world, well, Steve didn’t notice, because the flight attendant came by to ask for their drinks order.

\---

Bucky would be lying if he said that holding hands with Steve for most of the flight didn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. During that time, Bucky was able to reconcile what he experienced during his toe-curling kiss with Steve (the second, _not_ the first) and what he was feeling as they talked about nothing and everything and casually held hands for three hours.

Bucky knew that Steve’s eyes were blue, but how had he never noticed that they changed shades with his mood? How did he never notice that when they reflected the sun, there was a faint ring of green around the pupil? How did he never notice that Steve’s hair wasn’t just _blond,_ it was spun gold? And the way his whole face transformed when he smiled? And that Steve’s beard - an addition that hadn’t happened until being discharged from the army - somehow made him not just handsome, but _absurdly_ handsome?

These thoughts consumed Bucky throughout the flight and on the way to the rental car counter. The fact that Steve reached for his hand again after they disembarked the plane and held it all the way to their car only made things worse.

“This is a suspiciously nice rental, Buck,” Steve said as they loaded their bags into the back of the Lexus SUV.

“What can I say, that trip to Vegas last year was fruitful in more ways that one.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but Sarah just patted his back and smiled warmly at him.

The traffic to Key Largo wasn’t so bad in the afternoon, and it was just under an hour and a half before they rolled into the Barnes’ driveway on Flamingo Court. The bright blue house always startled Bucky; it was so different from the earth-toned home in Brooklyn he’d grown up in. They gathered their bags and rang the doorbell, and it flew open to reveal Ma and Dad, same as ever.

“Oh, sweetness, I’m so glad you’re here!” Ma said as she pulled Bucky into a hug. George was shaking Steve’s hand, and then they traded so Steve was hugging Winnie and Bucky was getting a handshake. Of course after what he felt was too short a time for a prodigal son’s return, they were both cast aside in favor of Sarah.

Steve took the opportunity to loosely thread his fingers with Bucky’s and lean in to whisper, “You ready?” and then placed a kiss on Bucky’s neck, below his ear and behind his jawline in a place too intimate to be construed as anything other than romantic.

Bucky may have melted a little, but obviously from the Florida humidity.

Ma’s shrewd eyes caught the movement and her eyes widened to a deer-in-headlights look. She drank in the scene before her, from their hands, to the small smile on Steve’s face to the blush on Bucky’s cheeks, and this was it, she was going to start yelling and screeching and-

Winnie broke into ugly sobs.

George immediately held her, and she cried into his chest, “George, do you see it?”

“Yes, honey, I see it,” he said, rubbing her back.

“Tw-wenty fuuucking years we’ve w-waited for this!”

“I know, I know. Been a long time comin’. And look at that, your patience paid off.”

Winnie nodded against George’s chest, and Bucky was speechless. He expected her to holler and shout her excitement, but apparently there was a whole new level of stuff they hadn’t anticipated. Bucky looked to Steve, who was just as startled as he was, and then to Sarah, who was beaming proudly.

“My boys!” Winnie sniffled, and turned to cup their faces, one in each hand. “I’m so proud of you for finally getting your shit together and figuring it out. Aw, my babies are together at last!”

Bucky and Steve were both pulled into a hug that nearly choked them, and were saved by the grace of George.

“Good lord, woman, let ‘em breathe,” he said, and pulled Winnie back to him. She sniffled some more and laughed. “Okay, okay, let’s take this circus inside,” George suggested.

They gathered their luggage and entered the foyer. “Rebecca!” Winnie shouted. “Becca, you get out here this instant!”

They heard a grumbling from down the hall and Becca appeared in rumpled sweats, clearly just woken from a nap.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted blearily.

“Rebecca, Steve and Bucky are _together_ now-”

Becca snorted. “Bout fuckin’ time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but Ma nodded. “Quite. Anyway, they’ll be taking the bed in the office-”

“What!”

“-and you’ll have the couch.”

“That’s _not fair!_ They don’t have 100-hour weeks to deal with; my body hurts _all the time_ , you want me to sleep on the damn _sofa?!”_

Sarah calmly reached over and took Becca’s hand. “Oh my darling, you can kip with me. I’m a heavy sleeper and I take up barely any room at all, you won’t even know I’m there. Besides, that bed has an orthopedic topper on it anyway, should fix your bones up nicely.”

Becca nodded, still clearly tired. “Thanks, Ma Sarah.”

“Of course, love.” Sarah squeezed Becca’s hand. “Now gather your things and go rest on the good bed. We’ll get you up for dinner, yeah?”

Becca nodded and hugged Sarah, and then Steve and Bucky as well. “Bout time you morons stopped wasting everyone’s time,” she said, and shuffled back down the hall.

\---

After everyone had settled into the appropriate rooms, Steve and Bucky took a minute to just breathe.

“That was…” Steve started.

“Yup.”

“I didn’t think-”

“Nope.”

“Did we go too far?”

“Maybe.” Bucky sat down on the edge of the surprisingly comfy futon and yawned. “You gonna take a shower?”

Steve nodded. He always felt gross after traveling, especially by air. “You can go after. Or with,” he winked playfully.

Bucky huffed a laugh and leaned backwards, legs still on the floor but half lying down. “I’m good right here, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Steve got fresh clothes and walked down the hall to clean the airport grime off. He felt refreshed afterwards, and thought he might ask Bucky if he wanted to play a board game or something. But when he got back to their room, Bucky was still in the same position as before: legs on the ground, torso on the bed, arms splayed. He was breathing deeply - almost snoring but not quite  - and his hair fanned out around him.

Steve took a moment to appreciate the softness of Bucky, in his jeans and sweater and tattoos. He couldn’t help himself, and reached out to stroke Bucky’s hair, and Bucky let out a soft noise and leaned into the touch. Steve’s stomach swooped weirdly, and he decided to get the hell out of there before he did anything else dumb… like run his thumb across the exposed strip of skin under Bucky’s navel, trace the edge of the tattoo on his hip bone, and see how soft his happy trail was.

Steve booked it out of the room and into the kitchen.

“Hey, Ma Winnie,” he greeted.

“Hi, baby!” she said, and poured him a cup of coffee to match her own.

“Need any help with dinner or anything?”

“Oh, it’s just pulled brisket that’s bubbling away in the crock pot. But I _have_ been thinking about changing the furniture around in the living room...”

\---

Dinner was a happy affair; Becca was more friendly after her additional rest, and so was Bucky. The pulled brisket sandwiches were delicious, and so was the coleslaw Steve and Winnie made. Afterwards, George and Becca watched the hockey game and grumbled about how garbage the Panthers were compared to the Rangers, and the remaining four played Scrabble.

After the first game, Bucky could barely keep his eyes opened, so he excused himself to go to bed. After the second, Steve did the same. When he hugged Ma Winnie goodnight, she whispered to him, “You know, the office is all the way across the house from the rest of us, and these walls are pretty thick. Do what you need to do and don’t worry about bothering anyone.” She kissed his flaming cheek and sent him on his way.

Steve and Bucky had been bedsharing since they were kids, it was nothing new. So Steve didn’t even spare a thought about spending the next few nights on the office futon, until he opened the door and saw a scene that was familiar to him, but beckoned him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

Bucky was on his side, facing the wall. Steve changed into his jammies and did what anyone would do with a sight so inviting: climb in bed and be the big spoon. And if Bucky snuffled and shifted back so he fit perfectly against Steve? Well, Steve absolutely _did_ notice and it sent his heart hammering into overtime.

\---

At five AM sharp, Sarah and Winnie met in the kitchen. Winnie popped bread in the toaster, Sarah put the kettle on, and they sat at the counter and waited.

“How’s life in Key Largo?” asked Sarah, drawing her lavender robe around herself. “Has it become as glamorous as the Beach Boys made it out to be, like you’d hoped?”

Winnie sighed. “I still hate it. It’s _always_ sticky here, the neighbors are _so friendly_ I can’t even stand it, and it never turns winter. I want to go home,” she said in a small voice.

Sarah took her friend’s hand. “Why don’t you tell Georgie, hmm? He’ll understand.”

“He likes being close to the water. So do I, for that matter.”

“But at what cost?”

Winnie made a noise of assent. There was a moment of silence after the toast popped up, and she gathered butter and jam for them.

“You know,” Sarah said as she spread peach preserves on her slice, “If it’s coastline you want, there’s always Fire Island, or Montauk, or any of those cute little towns along Long Island.”

Winnie’s eyes turned wistful. “ _Montauk._ You know, we honeymooned there? It is _so_ beautiful. And the leaves still turn.”

“Only a few hours from the city.”

“Close enough to visit, close enough to go upstate, close enough for everything.”

“Something to think about.”

“Yeah…” Winnie said, as the kettle started to whistle. She pulled it off the burner before it could get loud. “Can you believe our boys finally got together?”

Sarah smiled devilishly. “Yes, but they think they’re faking.”

Winnie’s eyebrows raised to maximum height. “I’m going to make the tea, and you are going to _spill it.”_

\---

Bucky woke to a soft hand stroking his cheek, a faint Irish brogue, and the spicy scent of Steve’s cologne.

“Time to get up, my darlings,” Sarah was saying. “We need to run to the shops. Ma Winnie has a battle plan and it behooves us all to fall in line.”

Bucky made a protest in the back of his throat and smooshed his face further into his pillow, which was much warmer and firmer than he was expecting. Big, strong arms twined around his waist and Bucky made another noise, this one pleased. The sharp, robust scent of coffee overpowered the spicy scent, and Bucky cracked an eye.

He was clinging to Steve, koala-style, like his life depended on it. Steve’s face was tucked against Bucky’s forehead, and they were wrapped around each other to the point where Bucky wasn’t sure where he ended and Steve began.

He loved it.

“Here’s your coffee, boys. You have thirty minutes to be ready. I suggest you do it in twenty-five.”

Steve shuffled to sit up, dragging Bucky along the way, and keeping him close. Bucky stayed tucked into Steve’s chest as Steve handed him coffee, and they drank in comfortable quiet as they woke. Steve used his free hand to rake his fingers through Bucky’s hair and smooth the tangles that had appeared in the night.

“Don’t have to do that,” Bucky muttered. “Got nobody to prove anything to right now.”

“And yet we’re still cuddled up,” Steve countered. “Besides, I figure, we should practice all the time, even when nobody’s looking. That way it’ll feel more natural when somebody _is.”_

“Alright then,” Bucky said, and cuddled even closer to Steve. He decided then and there that if he was going to get to touch Steve like he never knew he wanted to, then he was going to enjoy himself, by god. Bucky curled his legs, and his basketball shorts scooched down his thigh, revealing the myriad of images on his skin.

“I forgot about this,” Steve said, fingering a doodle on Bucky’s thigh. In the last twelve years, Steve had sketched many things in sharpie on Bucky’s skin... out of boredom, or needing to practice, or any other reason. Bucky had kept them all.

Bucky cited the time for the reason he jerked his leg from Steve’s hand, trying to cover that his skin had broken into goosebumps wherever Steve touched. Steve followed suit, getting up and making the bed with crisp hospital corners while Bucky fled to the bathroom with his clothes. Ma Sarah said to make it in twenty-five minutes.

They made it in twenty.

\---

“Okay,” Winnie said in the front of the market just a minute after the store opened. “Team Hockey?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” George and Becca answered from behind their little cart.

“You have your list. The turkey will be under George’s name at the meat counter, and if they try to give you anything less than a Heritage Bronze, you come get me. You’re also tasked with supplying the olive bar. Keep kosher if you can but it’s not required today.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Team Baseball?”

“Yeah!” Bucky said as Steve gave the required ‘Yes, Ma’am.’ Winnie gave him the stink eye, and Steve had to choke down a laugh.

“Pantry ingredients. You have your list. Steve is in charge- don’t you even try to protest, James Buchanan, the last time I sent you for canned pumpkin you came back with cherry pie filling and I’m not dealing with that kind of disaster today. Walnuts instead of pecans is _unacceptable_. Steven, I’m trusting you with this.”

Steve gave her an army-crisp salute and said solemnly, “I won’t let you down, ma’am.”

Winnie smiled at him, said, “I know you won’t,” and gave Bucky one more stink eye. “We,” she motioned to herself and Sarah, “Team Bookclub, will be getting produce. If you have any questions, _call me._ If you need to make a substitution, _call me._ If you run into any trouble, _call me._ Now, we have forty-five minutes to get in and out before Gertie Collins and her family get here. I don’t have the patience to deal with her spoiled, hellion grandbabies who don’t know manners from their own asses, so lets get it done in half an hour, sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

\---

Steve felt relaxed and comfortable with the directions and confines set by Ma Winnie. Her extreme specificity of their shopping list made it incredibly easy to get the things they needed, no guesswork at all.

Except that _Bucky_ was being distracting in his cream-colored, short-sleeved, buttoned up shirt with navy blue sharks printed on it. He’d only buttoned it to his sternum and left an indecent amount of golden and vibrantly-colored skin exposed. Except that _Bucky_ was wearing khaki shorts that hit above his knee and Steve could see the design he’d drawn one lazy afternoon, and Bucky had seen fit to absorb that ink into his skin permanently. Except that _Bucky_ had pulled his hair up and left the back of his neck exposed and Steve wanted to touch it all the time. Except that _Bucky_ was reaching for the house brand of puréed pumpkin instead of what was on the list.

“Buck! Are you out of your damn mind? The list clearly states two sixteen ounce cans of _Libby’s_ puréed pumpkin. You just got your ass handed to you over this exact thing!”

“What’s the big fuss? It’s the same damn stuff, you know it is.”

“Just. Get the Libby’s, _please.”_

Bucky grumbled and traded the cans, and Steve tried very hard not to watch the bright ink of Bucky’s bicep disappear and reappear as his shirt shifted with the reach. While Bucky dropped the correct cans into their little cart, his phone chirped.

“Uh oh,” he said, showing Steve the message.

 **From: Posh Becks**  
_SOS Team Bookclub waylaid by gourds, appears to be nosy neighbor. Alarm rating 5, Team Hockey delayed at meat counter, need to tag-team and intercept_

Steve’s mind was already in action. “Bucky, you head over, smarm it up. I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Why not now?”

“Trust me.”

Bucky shrugged and headed over to Ma Winnie. Steve followed suit, hiding behind a store display of craft root beer, listening to the conversation so he could plan the best entrance time.

“...Hayden and Abigail have been married five years and are expecting their third, isn’t that right?” an elderly platinum blonde woman was saying. She motioned to a robotic-looking, heavily pregnant bottle blonde, and the pair of them looked like they’d robbed the nearest J.Crew. Steve could see the scene through gaps in the display, and didn’t like what he was seeing at all. The older woman was high-class in an obvious, ostentatious way, and Steve disliked her immediately.

“Hey, Ma,” Bucky said, approaching Winnie. “I had a question but I forgot my phone.”

“Oh, hello, sweetness!” Winnie said with false charm. “James, this is Edith Chatsworth. Edith, this is my son, James. Edith’s husband was a banker or something, they’re retired like your father and I. James is one of the finest artists in New York. Just won another award, didn’t you, baby?”

Steve could see Bucky’s blush from behind the craft sodas, and it made his throat dry. Edith Chatsworth looked Bucky up and down with her face a little pinched, like she’d smelled something bad. And yeah, Steve hated her.

“That’s...different,” Edith sneered.

Bucky shuffled awkwardly and tried to deflect. “Listen, Ma, about the pumpkin…”

Winnie’s eyes flashed. “Speaking of solid relationships,” she said - and this was _exactly_ where Steve was hoping she’d go - “James and his childhood sweetheart have been together for over twenty years.”

While not exactly the truth, it wasn’t exactly a lie, and Steve could definitely work with that. He grabbed some chocolate bars from another nearby display and rounded the corner.

“There you are!” he said to Bucky. “I found those chocolates you were looking for,” and handed them over. He looked at Bucky with all the affection he could muster - which was quite a lot, as it turned out - and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then he said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Did I ever tell you how sexy you are in that shirt? Burns me up inside.”

He’d spoken the truth, and it made Bucky’s eyes sparkle. Bucky turned his head and captured Steve’s mouth in a kiss that was both intimate and chaste.

It left Steve’s lips tingling in the best way, and he thought maybe he'd like to experience that multiple times a day until the end of time.

“And this is _my_ son, Steven,” Sarah said proudly in a thick brogue, eyeing the Chatsworths in a cold fashion. Edith eyed her right back, eyes roving over Sarah’s small frame, her yellow sundress, her half-sleeve tattoo. It was clear Edith was less than impressed.

Steve smothered his feelings. He smiled warmly at Edith, greeted her with a ‘Ma’am,’ and offered his hand. She took it, her judgemental gaze now on him. He stood up as straight and proud as he could.

“And what do you do, Steven?” Edith asked him, obviously skeptical of his choices.

“I’m a former Army Captain,” he said.

“Thank you for your service,” she said with a sniff, obviously not thankful at all.

“Now I own my own graphic and web design company.”

“How...quaint. But I suppose that’s quite a success, for the son of an immigrant.”

Everyone stopped dead. Steve opened his mouth to say...he didn’t even _know_ , when Winnie piped up, her voice sharp and Brooklyn drawl thick.

“Edith Chatsworth, you Stepford Wife bitch-ass bitch, I have had it with you! I didn’t put up with your kind back home in New York, and I’m not doin’ it here. Take your xenophobic, elitist _bullshit_ and shove it up your tightly-puckered ass.”

With that, she squeezed Sarah’s hand and went back to shopping for her produce as if Edith Chatsworth had ceased to exist.

“Ma…” Bucky said, amazement on his face.

“Yes, sweetness?”

He bent down to hug her tight, and she let out a little squeak of surprise. “I miss you, do you know that?” he said into her hair. “I miss you all the time.”

She pulled back and cupped his cheek, eyes shiny. “I know, baby, me too. Now what’s all this about the pumpkin?”

Steve was quick to assure her that the pumpkin was sorted, and he tugged Bucky back to the grocery section. As they walked away, Sarah coughed, and Steve could have sworn it sounded like ‘Montauk.’

\---

They got their shopping done in thirty-eight minutes, and trekked back to the Barnes house with victory. They spent the day preparing as much Thanksgiving food ahead of time as they could, playing games, and having quiet time.

After dinner, they all curled up to watch the quintessential Thanksgiving classic, _Addams Family Values._ Becca sprawled on the floor; Sarah, Winnie, and George took the sofa; Steve and Bucky were left to share the loveseat.

(Not that Bucky minded.)

He’d taken Steve’s suggestion to heart, and allowed himself the luxury of as many small affections and sweet looks as he liked. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was really okay. But when Steve gave him small smiles and affections in return, Bucky _melted._

They were curled up together on the loveseat, Bucky against Steve’s side with Steve’s arm around his shoulders, their feet up on the ottoman. Bucky stroked Steve’s chest and curled an arm around him; Steve sighed contentedly and kissed his forehead.

More than anything, Bucky wished it was real...because it sure felt like it was.

\---

Steve spooned Bucky again in bed that night, and drifted into an easy sleep. Which was why he was especially perturbed that he woke hours later, pulse racing and the memory of a dream with gunshots and screams fading fast.

He had sweat through his pajamas, he was shaking, he felt nauseous. There was scrambling on the bed behind him as he tried to stay present, and when he opened his eyes Bucky was kneeling in front of him, cupping his face.

“Steve? Steve, baby, it’s okay. It’s early Thanksgiving morning. You’re with me, at Ma and Dad’s house in Key Largo. We’re safe. _You’re safe._ ”

Steve let out a groan and a half-sob and leaned his head on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get the shaking to stop. Bucky gently rubbed his back and breathed deeply so Steve could mimic his respirations. Eventually, Steve’s body and mind relaxed enough where he could sit up.

“M’Sorry,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“For what, being a survivor? For coming home to us, to me?”

Steve couldn’t really argue with that. Instead he answered, “You called me ‘baby.’”

Even in the darkness, Steve could see Bucky’s flush as he cleared his throat. “Go take a cool shower, you’ll feel better.”

Steve wasn’t ready for that yet. “No, I think...I think I’m gonna go for a run, first. Clear my head, tire myself out.”

“Whatever you need, Stevie,” Bucky said, and kissed one of his hands. Steve would swear his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He changed his clothes in the bathroom and splashed water on his face and neck before he set out.

He looked up the longest routes on GreatRuns, and chose one that would keep to the coastline and the botanical areas. Steve let the burn of his lungs and legs remind him of what he left in the desert, and let the sights and smells of Key Largo lull him into a solidified presence. Key Largo was beautiful in an artificial, ostentatious way that reminded him of Edith Chatsworth, and he felt a pang of homesickness for his daily route in Brooklyn.

By the time Steve returned to the Barnes’, dawn had broken. He found his Ma shuffling in the kitchen with a teakettle, and he sat at one of the counter stools.

“Hello, my sweet.”

“Hey, Ma.”

“Bad night?”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?” she asked, setting a cup of tea in front of him.

“Not that bad, really. Bucky was there, and he kept me… he just knows..." Steve paused, trying to find the words. "He pulls me back.”

Sarah sat next to him and asked, “Oh?” before taking a sip of her own tea.

“Yeah. He grounds me. Helps me to remember how to be _here._ ”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and gently patted his arm. They sat in early morning quiet for a while, just sipping their tea.

“He called me ‘baby,’” Steve blurted abruptly.

“...And why do you think he did that?”

“Cuz I...I told him we should be affectionate all the time, not just when people were watching. That way it would seem more real.”

Sarah just watched him and took another sip. “And how do you feel about being called ‘baby’ by James?”

Steve ducked his head, feeling heat spreading through his cheeks. “I liked it.”

“And why do you suppose that is?”

“Honestly, Ma, I dunno. This whole thing is fake, I _know_ it is, but I-”

“Is it though?” Sarah asked, her gaze boring into his very soul. “I’ve known you two for a very, _very_ long time. And I know that any partner either of you have ever had, you’ve unknowingly - or  sometimes knowingly - measured them against each other. I know that you have something magical, and special. And I know that whatever lie you’ve been telling yourselves for two decades, is, in fact, a _lie._ What you have is _real.”_

There was a yawn and a clunk behind them, and Becca appeared, dragging the bucket of turkey and brine from the garage into the kitchen. “I don’t know what you guys are talkin’ about, but you and Buck? Y’all ain’t been fakin’ it since the nineties.”

Steve stared while Sarah giggled. Becca tried to lift the turkey into the sink, but her arms noodled. Steve got up and one-handedly set the whole bucket into the sink for her. She looked at Steve pointedly. “Thanks, but if you think what you and my brother have isn’t some fairy tale shit, you’re dumber than I thought you were.”

Steve felt a warmth spread through his chest. He drained his tea and kissed his Ma on the cheek. “Thanks, guys.”

Sarah kissed him back, and Becca waved him off. “Shoo, it’s turkey time.”

Steve took his cool shower, changed into fresh pajama pants, and curled up next to Bucky. But instead of being the big spoon, Steve shifted Bucky onto his back, and then cuddled up to his chest so he could feel the warmth and touch the color, and put his palm over Bucky’s heart, and feel its beat guide him back to sleep.

\---

When Bucky woke, sunlight streamed through the windows and illuminated the sleeping Steve curled against him. Bucky wriggled his way from beneath him since he had to pee _really_ bad. When he got back to the bedroom, he found Steve still asleep, but not as restful as before. The circles under his eyes had deepened, and a furrow appeared in his brow.

Bucky dug around for the book he was currently reading, pulled on a hoodie, and climbed back into bed. He got comfy in a sitting position and pulled Steve to him, who immediately smooshed his face into Bucky’s hip and threw an arm over his thighs. Bucky crossed his ankles and pulled the covers over them, and then gently smoothed the furrow between Steve’s brows. His chest glowed with pride as he watched the crease fade away.

Bucky cracked his book and petted Steve’s goldspun hair, a content smile on his face. He must’ve dozed off because he woke to a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, sweetness, it’s just me,” his Ma said quietly. “Sarah told me that Stevie had a little bit of a bad night, and I wanted to tell you not to worry about coming to help. You be there for him, whatever he needs. Now, what do _you_ need? A snack? Some coffee?”

Bucky was going to tell her he was fine, but his stomach growled. “Yes, please.”

She kissed the side of his head and snuck back out of the room. A little while later she appeared with coffee and a cinnamon-date roll.

“Bless,” he whispered at her, and she winked back. He enjoyed his snack and coffee, but a few minutes later, Steve started to breathe louder and louder. Bucky poked him several times before he got a response. “Roll over, dumbass, you’re snoring. And _drooling_ on me.”

Steve muttered something that sounded like _fuck off_ but rolled away from Bucky, plastering his whole back side against Bucky’s legs. In no time, his breathing evened out again. Bucky started his next chapter.

When Steve woke again, it was sometime around noon. He blinked blearily up at Bucky, whose legs had long since started to ache from the stillness.

“Hey,” Bucky said, and reached down to pet Steve’s hair. “How you feelin’?”

Steve hummed as Bucky pet him. “Better. M’Hungry.”

“Ma made cinnamon-date rolls.”

“ _Fuck_ that sounds good.”

“Might be some left, if Becks didn’t eat them all.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “She wouldn't...”

“Better go check!” Bucky laughed as Steve left the room in a hurry.

Bucky took the opportunity to stretch luxuriously and take a hot shower to loosen all the muscles that were stiff. When he emerged, he found Becca sprawled on the couch dozing, while the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade played on the tv. The Mas and Steve were in the kitchen.

“Anyone need help?” he asked, smiling as he saw Steve eating some cinnamon-date rolls of his own.

“No,” said Winnie. “But your father’s workin’ on something in the garage, you can see if he needs some spare hands.”

“Alright,” Bucky shrugged, and took his leave. When he opened the door to the garage, he wasn’t sure _what_ he expected, but finding George Barnes surrounded by faux autumn foliage was _not_ it. “Dad…”

“Huh.” George grunted.

“Whatcha... whatcha doin’ there?”

George looked up at him. “Did you know your Ma’s favorite season is autumn?”

“Yeah…”

“Did you know that there’s no autumn in this god-forsaken, armpit of a state?”

Bucky couldn’t help but let loose a belly laugh. “I thought you liked Florida?”

George fumbled with a couple of leaves and some wire. “I liked the idea of Florida, I think. The real deal sucks ass.”

Bucky parked himself on a bench at his Dad’s worktable. “Why don’t you move home?”

“Your Ma’s friendly with the neighbors, she likes the water.”

“I can _promise_ you, Ma is not friendly with the neighbors. She cussed one out at the market yesterday morning.”

George looked up from his leaves. “Did she now? That’s encouraging.”

“What are you doing with all this stuff, anyway?”

“Well your Ma loves autumn, and this armpit state doesn’t have it. So we’re making it for her.” George gestured to a couple of candle holders he was making little wreaths for, as well as a centerpiece.

“Dad, that’s like, a _really_ sweet thing to do.”

“I have my moments. Now get to work. This basket-y, cornucopia thing isn’t gonna fill itself.”

At some point between agreeing to go Black Friday shopping for a new TV and dinner being served, Bucky and George managed to sneak their crafts onto the big dining table while everyone was occupied in the kitchen. Bucky was stirring the gravy when he heard a shout of ‘ _George Barnes, you magnificent stallion!’_ from the dining room and decided his Dad was a genius.

\---

Thanksgiving dinner was amazing. The food was cooked perfectly, everyone dressed up a little bit, and the ambiance was warm and inviting. Winnie had even closed the shades and turned on their fireplace so it looked like they were enjoying a real autumn.

Bucky had pulled his hair into a half-bun and put on a blue button-up, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was happy and safe and comfortable, surrounded by family, his tattoos dancing in the candlelight, and his face and eyes glowed with it. His soft smiles called to Steve like a beacon, and Steve couldn’t stop staring.

They spent the meal plastered to each other’s sides, and Steve spent most of that time with a hand on Bucky’s thigh. It might’ve been awkward if Bucky hadn’t gently traced patterns along Steve’s hand and fingers while he was holding Bucky’s thigh. As it was, Steve was _very_ glad the dining room table was able to cover the evidence of his arousal.  

Steve felt that Winnie’s Kentucky Bourbon pecan pie was the best part of the meal. By the time dessert was over, the situation in his pants had calmed down enough for him to be in a fit state to help clean up. Afterwards, when he and Bucky were alone in the kitchen drying their hands, Bucky asked, “Do you wanna make spiked hot chocolates and watch _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?”_

Steve laughed. “Buck, you don’t have to watch Christmas movies on my account.”

“It’s alright,” Bucky shrugged. “You love them, so I love them.”

And Steve loved _him,_ he realized like a thunderclap. And, because he could, Steve pulled Bucky close, and nuzzled his face and neck. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” Steve whispered, and brushed his nose against Bucky’s, like their first real kiss only a few days prior. It felt like a well-lived lifetime ago.

“Not as sweet as spiked hot chocolates,” Bucky whispered back.

“Wanna bet?” Steve challenged, and closed the distance. He kissed Bucky for _real_ this time, like he fucking meant it, because he _did._ He poured in every ounce of love and devotion, every tiny bit of feeling he’d ever had for Bucky and didn’t even know. He kissed him slow and deep, quick and hot, and everything in between. When they were breathless with it, Steve nipped Bucky’s lower lip to show his hunger for him.

“You, uh,” Bucky gasped, “Make an excellent argument.”

Steve grinned. “Do you really wanna watch _Rudolph?”_

“Honestly?” Steve nodded, and Bucky blew out a puff of air. “I’d rather watch _Frosty the Snowman.”_

“ _Frosty_ it is.” Steve leaned in for another kiss, and whispered against Bucky’s lips, “I’m sorry there’s not any fluffy or cheesy Hanukkah movies.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky breathed, “You’re makin’ up for it just fine.”

Eventually, the hot chocolates got made, and they cuddled up on the loveseat to watch _Frosty the Snowman._ Everyone else joined them, and Bucky and Steve snuggled close and played with each other’s hands while they watched. Steve took to tracing the tattoos on all of the skin that was exposed on Bucky: his arms, his collarbone, his wrists. He loved hearing the stuttered breathing from Bucky whenever he came across a sensitive spot, and filed those away so he could trace them with his tongue later.

\---

When the movie finished, Bucky had never been more turned on in his _life._ He booked it to the bathroom to take a cold shower, and even that couldn’t lessen his erection so he had to take matters into his own hands. The orgasm was hollow, and he emerged cold and unsatisfied. He crawled into bed with his book and waited for Steve to take his turn.

Sometime after Steve had gotten into the shower, the day caught up with Bucky. Caring for Steve and his PTSD, helping his Dad, helping in the kitchen, going through emotional wringers when Steve touched and kissed him...it all came crashing down with exhaustion, and Bucky fell asleep with his face mashed into his book.

When he woke to roll over, the lamp was off and the only light was from the full moon outside, illuminating everything in a soft, white glow. Steve must’ve crawled over Bucky to get to the far side of the bed, because he was on the wall side of the futon. Bucky watched him, peaceful in the moonlight. He was on his back, like he was just waiting to be Bucky’s pillow again, and the way they were laying put Bucky face to face with Steve’s half-sleeve vintage nurse tattoo.

Bucky traced the lines with his fingertips, trying to see if it was the moonlight washing out the color, or if Steve needed a touch-up. He felt weird admiring his own work, but also proud that the piece had turned out so well. He gripped Steve’s bicep gently, ran his thumb over the nurse, and kissed the ink.

Steve’s breath caught, and Bucky heard it.

He immediately pulled back, an apology on his tongue, when Steve used his army-honed reflexes. He pinned Bucky’s arms, rolled on top of him, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Bucky melted into it, opening himself to Steve, cradling him with his thighs. Apparently Steve had been awake for quite some time, because he started grinding his hardness against Bucky, who moaned at the feeling.

Steve worked his way from Bucky’s mouth to his neck, biting and sucking hard enough to mark, and Bucky relished the idea of having yet more of Steve’s work on his skin. Steve let go of his arms so he could pull Bucky's shirt off, and groaned at the sight of his naked torso. He dove back in, mouthing at Bucky’s nipples, tugging gently on the ring in the left.

Bucky gasped, rock hard by this point, and rolled his hips upward to get any friction he could. Steve met him in the middle and they set a rhythm of delicious, frantic friction. Bucky pulled at Steve’s too-tight sleep shirt and yanked it off. Once he felt them skin to skin, he decided it was the best thing ever and needed _more._

“Buck, _please,_ ” Steve panted, “Need you so much…”

Bucky nodded emphatically and clawed at Steve’s pants. Steve scrambled to get them off, and went to his bag on the floor. While he did that, Bucky shucked his own sleep shorts off, and palmed himself to relieve some of the pressure. Steve came back to the bed, tossed a small bottle of lube and a few condoms to the side, and then crawled his way up Bucky’s body, kissing and nipping skin as he went.

Steve traced his tongue up the tattoo on Bucky’s calf, then switched legs and bit into one on his thigh. He kissed his way up to the ink that went from the top of Bucky’s hip, across his Adonis belt, almost to his navel. Bucky's cock jumped with each touch of tongue or teeth on his skin.

Steve was driving him crazy in the absolute best way, and he needed...he needed-

“Steve, please, I need you inside of me,” he gasped.

“Oh,” Steve groaned, putting his forehead to Bucky’s stomach in an apparent effort to collect himself. “Bucky, baby, whatever you need.” He reached over and popped the bottle of lube. Bucky spread his legs more in invitation, and Steve shifted upwards so he could kiss Bucky as he entered him for the first time.

One finger always felt weird, but two felt better. Steve wasn’t a newbie and as soon as Bucky could take it, he had two fingers gently gliding in and out, getting Bucky’s hole loose and easy for him. Bucky whimpered softly, and Steve crooked his fingers and found his prostate, and Bucky’s back arched off the bed. He was so desperate to be filled with Steve that he ached for it.

“Nonono, Stevie, please, never been this turned on before, I won’t last, I won’t... Please, please, need you…”

Steve growled and pulled his fingers out to slide on a condom and slick himself up. “You want this?” Bucky nodded. “Tell me how bad you want this, I need to hear it.”

Bucky gripped Steve’s biceps, his back, anywhere he could reach, and spoke his truth. “Please, Stevie, need you. Never needed anyone this much, never needed anyone like I need you…”

And with that, Steve cursed, and gently pushed himself in. He did it slowly, to give Bucky time to adjust, and stopped whenever Bucky put his hand on his hip. When Bucky moved his hand from pushing Steve’s hip still to pulling him closer, Steve obliged. Eventually he was fully inside, and Bucky had never felt more perfectly alive.

Steve moaned and rested his forehead against Bucky’s neck, licking and nipping at the images on his collarbone. Bucky knew Steve was into tattoos before, but he had no idea how much...which was very exciting for Bucky, as he had a great many to explore.

After a minute of adjustment and self-control, Steve started a slow rhythm, gently gliding in and out, making sure the stretch Bucky was feeling gave way to nothing but pleasure. After a minute it did, and Steve sped up his pace, keeping an eye on Bucky’s face, and Bucky’s heart swelled at the thoughtfulness.

The drag and fullness of Steve's cock felt so good Bucky thought he was losing his mind. He gripped at Steve, kissing and biting just like Steve was doing to him. Steve reached up and threaded his fingers in Bucky’s loose hair and _gripped_ , and Bucky couldn’t stifle the throaty moan that echoed throughout the room as his cock throbbed.

“Does my baby like it rough?” Steve asked lowly, and Bucky felt tingling along his spine at the possession and pet name.

“Fuck _yes,”_ Bucky breathed with a smile. “I can take it all.”

“I’ll just bet you can,” Steve said proudly, and shifted his position so his grip on Bucky’s hair was harder, and the other hand pushed Bucky’s thigh back more, so he was as open to Steve as he could be. “Who do you belong to?”

Bucky’s blood sang. “You, I belong to you.”

Steve pushed all the way into Bucky, as far as he could, and stilled his hips. He looked down at Bucky, right into his eyes. Bucky felt naked, vulnerable, safe and cherished. It was the most real thing he'd ever experienced.

Steve asked quieter but somehow more commanding, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Stevie,” Bucky said, reaching up to caress his cheek and lightly scritch at his beard. “I belong to Steve Rogers.”

“Do you really?”

“Always have,” Bucky answered honestly.

A deep rumble resonated through Steve’s chest, and he picked his pace back up, but more brutal than before. His hips snapped against Bucky’s and it was so delicious he couldn’t stand it, the friction was too much, he was too close, he didn’t want it to be over yet-

He hooked a leg around Steve’s and flipped them over.

He grinned down at Steve triumphantly, whose eyes had somehow gotten even darker than before. Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s hips and up along his stomach, saying with reverence, “So fuckin’ sexy.”

Bucky preened and rolled his hips, trying to find a good angle. A half-roll, half-bounce worked best, and also allowed Bucky’s cock to rub along Steve’s abdomen for some teasing satisfaction. Bucky planted his arms on Steve's gorgeous, meaty chest, and threw his head back in pleasure. Steve gently lifted his hips to match Bucky’s pace, and Bucky was burning up from the inside out.

He could finish just like that, but he was greedy, and he wanted _everything_ from Steve. So Bucky gripped one of Steve’s forearms and guided the hand from his hip up along his chest and around his throat. Steve raised an eyebrow and Bucky tilted his head back to bare himself even more to Steve. Steve lightly grasped his throat, and Bucky moaned. He tightened his grip on Steve’s arm, and Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s throat in turn. Every bit of pleasure in Bucky’s body was amplified just that little bit more.

He kept bouncing and rolling his own hips, and leaned forward just a bit and - _there,_ Steve’s cock brushed his prostate with every inwards thrust. Bucky had never felt so much pleasure in his body all at once, he was overflowing with it. With his other arm, he grabbed Steve’s remaining wrist and guided it around his cock, upping the intensity. He tightened his grasp Steve’s forearm and the grip on his throat got that much firmer.

Bucky let out a loud and broken moan, his voice wrecked.

“Oh _god,_ Bucky, I love you _so fucking much-”_

And then Bucky’s body went supernova.

\---

Per the time he had agreed upon with his son the previous day, George Barnes walked towards the office with every intent of teasing him about still not getting up to an alarm. But halfway down the hall, he heard sounds he could have gone a lifetime without hearing, and turned on his heel to walk right back the way he came.

He could handle the TV on his own.

\---

At brunch on Black Friday morning, everyone was in a good mood.

“Guess what!” said George. “I got the deal of the century on that TV, so I got two.”

“What are you going to do with two TVs?” Winnie asked.

“I dunno yet, but I’m spoiled for choice!”

Sarah chimed in, “Well, I have an announcement to make.”

“Me too,” said Becca.

“Us three,” said Steve.

George laughed. “Okay, okay. Sarah first.”

Sarah gently dabbed at her mouth. “Well, Doctor Erskine called me this morning, he said he’s decided to retire and he’s selling the practice. He also gave me a _massive_ bonus for all my years of service, so I’ll be retiring too!”

There was a collective shout of joy and everyone gave her hugs and congratulations.

“Becca?” Winnie asked.

“I’ve been put on the shortlist for a fellowship in pediatric virology.”

More hugs and shouts of joy.

“Boys?” George prompted.

“We’re together!” Steve grinned. The table was silent.

“Like, _for real,”_ Bucky added. Yet more shouts, and money being paid for bets won.

“Does anyone else have any big announcements?” George asked.

Winnie took a breath, and everyone watched her. “I fucking hate Florida and I want to move back to New York.”

Like a sitcom, everyone’s heads swivelled to watch George’s reaction.

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck for that.”

The cheer that rose up was the biggest one yet, and spawned singing and dancing and general merriment that lasted quite some time. It was the best kickoff to the holiday season they could remember having.

And, Steve hoped, as he watched Bucky laugh, and pulled Bucky’s hand up to give his palm a kiss, the first of many.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [Tumble](https://duelingnebulas.tumblr.com/) with me!


End file.
